English Room 3
by Ciiirce
Summary: Ignatius Borlock, or Ig, moved to England four years ago. He is a tough guys, one of a gang, until he meets Miss Caraway. The English teacher helps him to become himself again but could it be possible that his father and his teacher have met before...?
1. Chapter 1

Whispers.

Whispers spread through the school. Whispers speaking of something, no, some_one_, I realised. Whispers about students were not uncommon at the start of the school year, but these were different. Not a student, no, it was something else. What, I couldn't be sure.

Then I heard someone mutter "English 3".

English 3. That was my English classroom. At lunch, I asked Jack if he knew anything about it.

"Nope," he said, prodding the lump of meat they called 'lunch' at our school. "Maybe it's a new teacher. She could be young or something," he said, flashing his teeth at me.

This seemed like the most logical explanation. Last year there was a student teacher teaching Science. But she had left when rumours got around that she was in a relationship with one of the students. To tell the truth, it wasn't that surprising to most of us. St. Austin's College isn't exactly the best school in the UK. I had been going there for four years, ever since my dad and I moved here from America. It was a hard move, everything was so different here. But then I met Jack. He took me into his gang, I became one of them. After that, life was easier. They didn't bother with homework, so neither did I. They skipped class, so did I. They didn't try, so neither did I.

I'm not saying that this was how I wanted to be. It's just that in a world of peer pressure, it was so much easier just to let yourself be swept along. Fighting against it was like fighting a strong current. You may do it for a while, but the water will be cold around your body. You will be alone, fighting with no one by your side. Eventually, you give up, and sink into the murky depths. You forget who you are. If your friends like a certain type of music, so do you. If your friends hate school, so do you. If your friends lose their individuality, so do you. It's just the way things are.

I thought it was the way things would always be.

Until I walked into English 3.

By now, most of us were expecting a young, student teacher. What we saw shocked us.

She wasn't young, she wasn't old. She looked about in her mid-thirties, although she could have been older. Her wavy, sandy coloured hair was pulled off her face by a strip of bright pink cloth. She was wearing an old fashioned white blouse and a long, trailing, multicoloured skirt. She was about average height, about our height. Dozens of multicoloured bangles rattled on her arms, and a bright red choker with an emerald set in the middle of it was wrapped around her neck.

All in all, she was unlike anything we had ever seen before.

Instinctively we took our seats. I sat with the rest of the gang at the back of the room, the popular girls and tough guys always sit at the back. The quieter kids sit at the front, nearer the teachers desk. But now, I was almost regretting sitting further back. This new teacher was like an alien life form, a splash of colour in our dull world. She was grinning broadly at our class, something no teacher has ever done.

"Okay, well, I'm Miss Caraway, and I'll be taking you for English this year," she said. "now, I want to get to know each of you personally, so I'm going to call out each of your names and I want you to raise your hand, okay?" she said. "Katie Ashton?"

"Here," Katie said, raising her hand.

"Ignatius Borlock?"

I winced. I _hate_ my name. Apparently my mother gave it to me. She and my dad weren't married, so when I was born she dumped me with him and ran off with his friend. Usually, I just shorten it to Iggy, or Ig.

I half heartedly raised my hand. "Here. And it's just Ig," I said. She was looking at me in a funny way, the smile gone from her face. Then she gave a small shake and looked down at the register again.

"Okay then, Ig it is. Amy Cassidy?" she said, her smile returning.

I tuned out, and stared into space. Well, I pretended to be staring into space, really I was staring at the back of Eva's head.

Eva Smith. She wasn't popular, she was quiet. She wasn't a nerd, her grades were average, it was just that she wasn't as confident as the more popular girls.

I had a major crush on her.

I scanned the back of her head, her long, golden hair fell in small waves down her back. She didn't wear much make-up, wasn't fussy with her hair. She didn't buy one-size-too-small school shirts to make them clingy, or hitch her skirt up too high. She wasn't like most of the others. And, for some reason I found that attractive.

Nobody knew. Because _I _knew that if _they_ knew they would tell her, or tease me mercilessly. No, it was better just to admire her secretly, and hope that one day she would be mine.

I was broken out of my daydream by Miss Caraway's voice.

"Right, you can start this assignment in class, but I want you to finish it for homework," she said, starting to write something on the board. When she stepped away, I read it.

_Anything at all._

I frowned, puzzled. Usually teachers gave us the start to essays, examples of how to write them, and how we should finish them. There was rarely any creativity involved. So this was something completely different.

She grinned at us. "Anything. From about yourself, to the planets, to politics, to the door that was painted a different colour today than yesterday - anything. Make up a story, write a poem, be creative. Let me get to know you through your writing," she said, sitting down on her desk.

We stared. We stared at her, we stared at each other. Finally, the normal chatter began, which increased to full out rowdiness. During this all, she just sat there, even started a conversation with one of the younger students, instead of telling us to shut up and get on with our work like the other teachers usually would.

When the bell went, we filed out of class in the normal manner - pushing, shoving and that sort of thing.

But, although I tried to act normal throughout the day, I felt like someone had hit me with a truck. I think we all felt it.

She was something different.

Something original.

We were in shock.

It couldn't be him.

She shuffled through her papers, trying to find a way to keep herself busy. He lived in America, she had moved to England eighteen years ago. It wasn't him. It couldn't be.

Besides, as far as she knew, he didn't have a son. He couldn't have… could he? Was he married? Did he have a family?

She shook herself. She was through living in the past. His second name was a coincidence, nothing more.

She distracted herself by going through documents. She picked up a pen to sign one of them. She could never really let go of the past, not as long as she kept her name. She hadn't changed it for almost twenty years now. But she liked it, it was who she was, it was _her_.

In a flourish, she signed it:

_Stargirl Caraway_


	2. Chapter 2

**Yay! Another chapter!**

**Okay, first I'd like to apologise for not updating sooner. I'm really, really, really sorry, but I've been really busy with the new school term and stuff, and I promise I'll try to update sooner in future. And to everyone who reviewed - thanks a lot! Your reviews were the things that dragged me out of my hole and back to update!**

**-**

The next day, there was only one thing on my mind. In fact, I think there was only one thing on a _lot_ of people's minds. All day, those last two periods after lunch seemed to loom over us. We were unable to concentrate, unable to think about anything else than that English room.

When the time finally came, it was as though a heavy weight had been lifted off our shoulders, and as though a heavier one had been placed on them. Who was she? What would she be wearing today? Would she get angry, like the other teachers, when we didn't do our homework?

Actually, I _had_ done it.

I rarely bother with homework. But for some reason, for her I had. I had written an essay of at least five pages. Once I started I couldn't seem to stop. It was a story, a story set in the past, about a peasant boy who fell in love with a princess, who was already engaged to a prince. He tried everything, but nothing seemed to work, and she never noticed him. I wasn't sure how to finish it, so, in the end, I left it with him standing in his field, listening to the faint sound of wedding bells in the distance.

If I hadn't been with Jack and the others, I might have ran to her class. As it was, we arrived late.

When we walked in, she was _singing_.

Singing, and playing a… ukulele?

Nothing had prepared us for this. She was singing 'Happy Birthday' to a boy in our class - Alex Durrow. His face was burning scarlet, and he was staring at the ground. Most of the gang started shoving each other and smirking, but I couldn't manage much more than a weak grin. Today she was wearing a long, red, velvet dress and her hair was pulled up in a loose bun. We took our seats as she finished the song, her smooth, clear voice holding the last note until it faded. Then she handed Alex an envelope.

_A birthday card?_

We all stared at her - I was grateful _my_ birthday was during the summer. None of the other teachers even _knew_ when it was our birthday, but somehow she found out it was Alex's, sang him a song, and gave him a card.

Was she for real?

She took a seat on her desk - not on the chair behind it, actually _on _it -and grinned widely at us, as though nothing had happened. "Right guys, I gave you a homework for today, so could you pass your books up to the front. But first, has anyone not done it?" she asked, her eyes wandering over the room.

About half of the class put their hands up. I noticed that the rest of my friends did, so, despite having actually done my homework, I raised my hand also.

"Hmm. Well, well done to the people who did do it, anyway," she said. I looked at her in complete disbelief. Not even a telling-off? No bad conduct marks? No detention?

Just then, for a brief moment, her eyes met mine. I immediately lowered my gaze, but even then, I could _feel _her looking at me, as if she could see right through me, right into my thoughts.

But then she started speaking, and I felt her look away.

"Okay, now, while I read these, I want to introduce you to the art of meditation," she said. I frowned, and looked at Jack, who shrugged his shoulders and pulled a face. "Does anyone actually know what meditation is?" she continued.

A few people half-heartedly raised their hands.

"Yes, Eva?" she said.

I saw the back of Eva's head shift. "It's… it's like, when you stop thinking, right?" she said in a low, nervous-sounding voice. I stifled a smile at the sound of her voice. I couldn't give even the slightest sign, just in case someone noticed.

"Exactly," Miss Caraway confirmed, beaming in her direction. "I want you all to close your eyes and relax."

Jack raised an eyebrow at me, but since she was still watching us expectantly, I just shrugged at him and closed my eyes, shifting in my hard plastic chair.

"Now," I heard her voice say, "Concentrate only on your breathing. In, out, in, out, the steady motion. When you're ready, start to imagine a giant eraser slowly starting to make your body disappear. Imagine it erasing your toes, your feet, your legs, all the way up to your head. Take it slowly, at your own pace."

I did as she said, concentrating on my breathing. It was actually very relaxing. In, out, in, out. The movements that were keeping me alive. In, out, in, out.

But when it came to the eraser… I couldn't do it. I couldn't make so much as a toe disappear. I tried and tried, but to no avail. I opened my eyes a tiny amount, so I could see how the others were doing. Of course, my gang were all grinning idiotically and nudging each other, as were most of the popular girls. Others seemed to be really trying, whilst others still seemed to have gotten the hand of it immediately.

Eva was one of those. Whilst I could only see the back of her head, and the tiniest bit of the side of her face, I knew that she was gone. Completely erased from this world. It was as though a light had been switched off, but an even brighter, purer one had been put in its place. I stared at her for a few moments, and then noticed Miss Caraway looking at me. I felt uncomfortable under her gaze and hastily shut my eyes again.

"Pfft!"

The sound of a badly suppressed snort reached my ears, followed by another few, and then it was chaos, almost the entire class was laughing manically. A few people looked disappointed that the meditation was over, but although I felt that way, I covered it with a snigger. I didn't want anyone to know that I had enjoyed the experience - no, it was better to stay safe, and just to laugh it off.

Miss caraway looked disappointed. I thought I heard her mutter something under her breath, but I didn't quite catch it.

The rest of the two lessons passed quickly. She gave us something to do, but nobody bothered, it was as though we weren't even in a classroom. Whilst we chatted and laughed, she just sat at her desk, marking homework's, completely oblivious to the rest of the world.

When the bell went, I packed up slowly until the rest of the class had left, and I was alone with her. I went up to her desk. He looked at me quizzically.

"Umm, Miss here's my, umm, homework," I said, shoving the book into her hands and running out the door, before she could ask any questions.

-

The silence at dinner was broken only by the clatter of cutlery against the ceramic of the plates. My dad and I sat at opposite ends of the table, both absorbed completely in our own thoughts. Not that we usually talked much anyway. In fact, the last time we had spoken more than a few sentences to each other was when I got my hair cut two weeks ago. Instead of the thick, dark brown mop it had been for the last few years, it was now shaved short at the sides, but with enough left in the middle to be spiked up with gel. My dad hated it. I didn't mind it. It was how a lot of guys were wearing their hair nowadays, so why not me?

But tonight I was too busy thinking about the events of the afternoon to want to talk much anyway.

"So, Iggy, anything happen at school today?"

I looked up at my father, who was looking at me, waiting for an answer.

And for a brief moment, I though about telling him. He was at school once, right? He might know how to deal wit this sort of thing. The peer pressure, the hopeless crushes, he might even know what to do about Miss. Caraway. And he would want to hear about his own sons life, wouldn't he?

But then I remembered who I was, and what my friends would do.

"No, nothing," I said.

Then I got up from the table and went upstairs to my room.

-

**So, what so you think? If you have any comments, opinions or ideas, please review and tell me them! **

**Cheers,**

**Circe**


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